


A Different Kind of Magic

by greensweater



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adorable, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Lee, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fremione - Freeform, Gen, Headcanon Accepted, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, POV Fred Weasley, POV Hermione Granger, Party Games, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Golden Trio Era, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Weasley Family, fred and hermione, plus three more, smooth fred, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:43:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6874807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greensweater/pseuds/greensweater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of sitting down in a compartment with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger bumps into Fred Weasley on the Hogwarts Express, and he introduces her to a wild world of pranks, secrets, and a different kind of magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger stared in wonder at the bright red Hogwarts express as the sun shone brightly and the clamor of people filled the platform. 

“Wow, Hermione, it really is magnificent,” her father remarked, looking around in interest. 

She spun around and beamed up at him. “Dad, I’m so excited!”

Mrs. Granger sniffed, and Hermione glanced up in time to see her mother’s eyes well up slightly.

“Oh, Mum, please don’t cry,” she consoled, giving both her parents tight hugs. “I’ll be perfectly all right. Also, did you know that Hogwarts can’t be plotted on a map? I read it in one of my new books.”

Mr. Granger choked up as well, and patted his daughter on the shoulder. “With your brains, you will definitely be all right.”

Hermione felt her smile waver as she realized that she’d actually have to talk to people other than her parents, who had been her only friends throughout her life so far. She’d have to make friends at Hogwarts, since she couldn’t stand her own company for more than a few hours, let alone seven years.

And school! Learning! Books! Her greatest pleasures, apart from the occasional lemon tart. She’d always felt different from other children, who seemed content to put down a book half-finished in favor of the playground, while she spent recess inside, reading and talking with the teacher. Hermione, even though she didn’t fully realize it, was desperately lonely.

The train whistle blew, sending a thin trail of steam through the air. 

“This is it, love,” said her mother, gently pushing her towards the train, “Be sure to write.”

Hermione took a deep breath and plastered on her brightest smile. “Bye, Mum and Dad! Love you!”

She jumped on the train easily, having already put her luggage on ahead of time. Now, the only problem was finding a place to sit. Preferably making friends in the process, although Hermione had never had one her age before. She peeked into the compartment closest to her. The only person in there seemed to be a small, pudgy boy clutching a toad tightly. Hermione was debating whether to knock, or simply just enter, when the train shuddered violently and she was thrown to the side. Fortunately, a pair of strong hands caught her by the shoulder, so she didn’t completely fall over. She looked up and met a pair of warm brown eyes. 

“I’m Fred Weasley, pleasure to meet you.” The boy released her once she was steady again.

“Hermione Granger.” Her voice was surprisingly steady, considering the situation.

The boy—Fred—surveyed her, a small, bushy-haired girl carrying a bag bursting with heavy books. Then he smiled winningly.

“Do you have a compartment to sit in, Miss Granger?” he asked.

“I was just about to find one, actually,” she retorted.

“Well, would you like to spare the time and come sit in mine?”

Hermione took a deep breath. A potential friend. She just had to play it cool.

“Er—sure.”

God, she was making a mess of things already. But Fred didn’t seem to mind.

“Brilliant. It’s near the end.”

He graciously took her bag, which Hermione was both slightly offended by and immensely grateful for, since even though she didn’t want to seem wimpy, her shoulder was aching quite a lot.

“And here we are. After you, Miss Granger,” he said, opening the door and gesturing for her to enter first.

“Thanks, Mr. Weasley,” she fired back, making a surprised smile appear on his face.

Hermione stepped inside the compartment, with Fred slipping in after her. Two other boys sat in the seats, gaping up at her. One looked identical to Fred, and the other was dark-skinned, with long dreadlocks.

“May I introduce the lovely Hermione Granger?” Fred grinned at the other boys.

The one with dreadlocks cleared his throat. “No offense, Hermione, but Fred, what the hell is she doing here?”

Fred frowned, and was about to say something when his doppelganger spoke up. 

“Fred, dear lad, I was just about to ask the same thing. We agreed that this year would just be us, even though ickle Ronnie’s now at school and our whole operation will be in danger.”

Hermione inched towards the door. The others clearly didn’t want her here, a fitting start to her Hogwarts career. Seeing her movements, Fred pulled her towards the seats and she reluctantly sat down, avoiding the eyes of the other two boys.

“This is my twin, George, and our friend Lee Jordan. Now, you two are going to be pleasant to Miss Granger, all right?” Fred was about to start on a stern lecture but Hermione cut him off.

“Is that a tarantula?” she asked curiously, leaning forward to better see the contents on Lee’s lap.

Lee nodded a bit warily, and tilted the box a small fraction towards Hermione.

“I named him Dumbledore,” he muttered, a bit sheepishly.

She couldn’t hide her snort of laughter, and the tarantula shied away. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” She breathed deeply to suppress her giggles.

“It’s absolutely—”

“No trouble at all.” George finished.

Hermione looked in between them. “Do you do that a lot? Finish each other’s sentences?” 

Fred shrugged. “I suppose. Comes with being a twin.”

“Wow.”

George leaned forward. “So, first year, huh?” Apparently, these boys warmed up fast.

“Yeah. I’m really, really excited. I’m looking forward to learning real magic!”

Lee started chuckling. “The novelty will wear off soon, firstie.”

“What do you mean? It’s magic.”

The three looked at each other, and seemed to understand something.

“Ohhhhh, you’re a Muggleborn,” realized Fred. “Of course this is all new to you. Listen, we can help you navigate the school. All three of us grew up with magic parents and siblings, so we know the ins and outs of Hogwarts already.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Does being a Muggleborn matter at all?” she asked nervously.

Fred and George glanced at each other, but it was Lee who spoke up.

“It matters to some people,” he began carefully, “But you shouldn’t listen to them. They’re just lowlifes and wankers, anyway.”

Hermione was shocked at the profanity, which Lee immediately apologized for, but even more astounded by the revelation that her non-magic parentage mattered in this world.

“Listen, Hermione,” said Fred, using her first name for the first time, “We’re third years. Bill, my older brother, used to be Head Boy and all the teachers like our family. And all three of us are really good at magic. Anyone who gives you trouble, just tell any of us and we’ll deal with them, okay?”

A warm feeling spread through her, like butter melting in her chest. Friends. People to watch her back, to share information with, to TALK to. Everything she had ever wanted. And it had begun sitting in a compartment with three boys and a tarantula.


	2. Train Converations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione stuns the twins and Lee.

“So, which house is the best?” Hermione asked, tearing open another Chocolate Frog wrapper. “Ooh, Agrippa.”

The boys spoke in unison. “Gryffindor.”

“No question,” added Fred, popping a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean into his mouth.

“I thought it might be that,” she said. “I mean, Dumbledore himself was in Gryffindor. I hope I’m in either that house or Ravenclaw.”

George shuddered. “Just as long as—”

“You aren’t in mangy old Slytherin,” finished Fred. “You-Know-Who and practically every other Dark wizard was Sorted into that house. Slytherin isn’t the place for a nice girl like you.” He winked at her, and Hermione blushed.

“Oh! We forgot to tell Lee about our encounter, George.”

George fell dramatically back into his seat. “Our encounter! How could we forget?”

“We met—”

“The amazing—”

“Wonderful—”

“Talented—”

“Beautiful—”

“Harry Potter!” they finished together with huge grins.

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “The Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived? The wizard who defeated Vold—”

The others winced.

“Sorry—You-know-Who, as just a baby? He’s here?”

Fred nodded, a smirk of triumph on his face. “We did. Helped him with his trunk and everything. And the best part is, he was talking to Ron when we left to find a compartment. So we,” he rubbed his hands together, “are in business.”

“Oh, I’ve read so much about him! I can’t believe he’s in my year, and I’ll meet him, and talk to him, and everything!” She sighed with delight. 

George shook his head. “You’re worse than Ginny.”

“Who?”

“Our younger sister. It’s not important. Anyway, we’re almost there.”

Hermione felt a ball of excitement welling inside her. “How close?”

Lee shrugged. “About fifteen minutes.”

Her time with the older boys was coming to an end, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Fred seemed to notice her change in mood, and nudged her with his shoulder.

“Hey, you mentioned you’d been practicing your spells.” He motioned to her untouched wand. “Want to have a go?”

Hermione looked nervously at him. “R-right now? Aren’t we not supposed to use magic outside of school?”

They all laughed, and Hermione felt a little foolish. 

“Okay, I will.” She picked up her wand and cleared her throat. “Erm—Accio!”

To her delight and surprise, the scrap of paper she’d been aiming for zoomed across the compartment, right into her waiting hand.

“I did it!” she crowed. Then Hermione looked up. She had never seen such shocked faces in her life. The three boys looked absolutely dumbfounded, gobsmacked, speechless. She suddenly felt rather shy.

“What?”

Fred composed himself enough to croak out, “Blimey.”

“How did you know that spell? That’s a third or fourth year spell, that is, and you haven’t even stepped foot into Hogwarts,” said Lee admiringly.

Hermione’s face went bright red. “I-I don’t really—I just read about it, the theory, and I figured—I mean—” she stammered.

Fred saved her further embarrassment. “No, it’s brilliant, what you did. Ravenclaw material, for sure.”

If it was possible, Hermione blushed even more. “Thank you.”

Just when the conversation picked up again, the train halted. All four looked regretful.

“See you around Hogwarts, Hermione.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Hermione pulled Fred aside as George and Lee collected the rubbish from the seats.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.

He cocked his head to one side. “Doing what?”

“Being so nice to me. Inviting me to sit with you. I’m just a first year, and you three are funny, and awesome, and probably extremely popular, and me? I’m not even a little bit cool.”

Fred looked taken aback. “You, not cool? Hermione, you just performed a spell that is practically impossible for your level of knowledge. You weren’t scared of Lee’s tarantula, and you are really a great conversationalist. I would say that you, Hermione Granger, are remarkable.”

Hermione stared at her shoes, a lump forming in her throat. She willed herself not to cry, and Fred pretended not to notice, for which she was immensely grateful.

Everything was collected and sorted, so they finally got off the train.

As she was about to head off with the other first years, Fred grabbed her elbow.

“If you’re sorted into Gryffindor, sit with us, alright?” he asked.

She nodded, a slight smile forming on her face, then waved and hurried to catch up with the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm officially committed. Leave a comment if you liked this chapter! Always open to suggestions, as well. --xx Shippingslut


	3. Before the Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione comes face to face with her hero: the Boy Who Lived.

The night was cold and misty, and Hermione shivered, wishing for a warm coat. She and the other first years were herded into small boats, three in each. The boat rocked as Hermione gingerly stepped into one, and she took someone’s offered hand for support, not realizing who it was until she looked up.

“You’re Harry Potter!” she gasped, then covered her mouth.

The boy’s bottle-green eyes looked a bit wearily at her. “That’s me,” he said, rather unenthusiastically. Hermione didn’t know why he wasn’t excited to be recognized. If she were that famous, she’d be jumping out of her seat. Then again, her star-struck greeting had hardly been the first he’d received. After all, this was the Boy Who Lived, one of the most well-known names in the Wizarding World, even if he was only eleven years old.

“Sorry, I’ve just read all about you, and—”

“I’m in books?” he interrupted, looking startled and slightly uneasy at the concept.

“Loads. Percy had to do a report on you last year for Defense against the Dark Arts, and he talks a lot about his schoolwork,” said the boy sitting next to Harry, whom Hermione hadn’t even noticed.

The boy had carrot-red hair and freckles, so she assumed that this must be Ron, Fred’s younger brother.

“Ron Weasley, isn’t it?”

Ron looked taken aback to be recognized, clearly expecting Harry to be the center of attention.

“Yeah, who’re you?”

“Hermione Granger,” she said matter-of-factly, sticking out her hand. Ron shook it, rather bemusedly glancing at Harry.

“I sat with your brothers on the train. Fred and George. They were really quite lovely to me.”

Ron’s eyebrows scrunched with surprise. “They let you sit with them?” he inquired, and Hermione heard a slight tone of jealousy in his voice, “I wasn’t even allowed, and I’m their brother. I had to fend for myself.”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know. But they were pretty impressed with my spellwork, I suppose.”

“Spellwork?” the boys asked in unison. 

Too late, she realized that maybe talking about her abilities wasn’t the best course of action among others her age. But she had to explain.

“I… might have done a spell. Nothing big, or particularly cool or anything,” she hastened to explain, seeing the boys’ impressed expressions, “But, yeah. I… did a spell.”

Ron nodded slowly. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you were invited to sit with them. Are you aiming for Ravenclaw, by the way? All the clever ones are in there.”

“I was hoping to go to Gryffindor, actually. What about you?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Anything but Slytherin,” Harry automatically replied.

Ron looked a bit queasy. “I have to be in Gryffindor. My whole family’s been in it for centuries, and if I’m not…” He gulped. 

Hermione felt a little sorry for him. For one thing, she was envious of his magical upbringing, but with that came heavy expectations. And for the first time, she silently thanked her parents for their acceptance (along with their complete ignorance.) 

“I think I’ll either be in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw,” she announced. “I love books and learning, so I think I’d be a good Ravenclaw, but something about Gryffindor intrigues me, I don’t know.” Hermione stopped rambling abruptly as the boats halted and they all started making their way onto shore. 

“Follow me, firs’ years! Over here, thas’ it.” 

Hermione stood on her tiptoes to see. “Who’s that huge man?” she asked Harry.

“Oh, that’s the groundskeeper, Hagrid. He’s brilliant,” Harry added, fixing her with a glare that said, _don’t even think about saying anything bad about this man_. It was a little scary, to be honest, but she wasn’t even planning on being rude.

Just as Hermione was about to retort, the doors creaked open and a woman in a tall black hat stepped out. Hermione instantly admired her. The woman was small and withered, but held herself high, with a stern, formidable air about her. 

“I am Professor McGonagall. Right this way, please.”

The crowd moved forward, jostling and murmuring anxiously. 

And Hermione Granger finally stepped foot into the school that would eventually become her home.

 

…

 

The first years clustered together in groups, excited but nervous. Hushed whispers of speculation filled the room, as Professor McGonagall had left momentarily. She soon returned, and the room instantly quieted.

“We will begin the Sorting Ceremony very soon. You have a few minutes to get yourself in order. Don’t embarrass yourselves.” The Professor fixed them all with a severe glare, and Hermione’s stomach turned over.

To keep herself occupied, she turned to Ron. He had a black smudge on his nose that had been bothering her. Ron hissed and ducked away from her finger when she tried to rub it off.

“What the—bloody hell, Granger! Stop messing with my face!” 

Harry looked sympathetic, but faintly amused. “Ron, mate, you do have something on your nose,” he commented. “But Hermione, you’re being a touch intrusive.”

She frowned. “Ron has dirt on his nose. Am I supposed to let him walk in front of everyone like that? Including his brothers?”

“Stop talking about my brothers,” Ron growled. “In fact, just stop talking.”

He pointedly turned his back on her, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel guilty and embarrassed. She’d screwed up a potential friendship… and the panic rising in her chest and throat wasn’t helping. 

Harry looked uncomfortable. “He’s just nervous.”

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak at the moment. After an awkward shrug, Harry started talking to Ron again, and this time Hermione knew she was not welcome. 

Making friends and fitting in was going to be really hard. If only Fred, George, and Lee were in her year, then she might have a chance. A fleeting notion crossed her brain: tell McGonagall to send her back to the comfortable and familiar world of Muggles and her parents. But she was Hermione Granger, and she shook that thought off as quickly as it had come. She was not about to quit, not ever. This was who she was meant to become, and damn it, if she had to fight tooth-and-nail, she would achieve it.


	4. The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns some new things about herself and gets Sorted.

“Move quickly, into the Great Hall, please,” said Professor McGonagall, striding briskly alongside the gaggle of flustered children. “And don’t slouch!” she snapped, at a small boy with a pale face, white-blond hair, and piercing gray eyes. Hermione felt sorry for him, as Professor McGonagall was really quite intimidating. Until she turned away and he sneered at her with an arrogant toss of his head. He would have been good-looking if not for the sour, pompous expression that twisted his features. Hermione could tell this boy had status and money, and resolved to stay out of his way.

The boy’s attitude instantly flew out of her mind when the group entered the Great Hall. All the first years stared around in awe, drinking in the beauty. Hermione gasped when she looked at the ceiling and found it matched the night sky, swirled with brightly twinkling stars splashed against the velvet-black night sky. 

And then the Hat was brought out. Ragged and weathered with age, it sat on a wooden stool, looking harmless as… well, a hat. The Hall watched with apprehension, as something was evidently about to happen. 

What Hermione was not prepared for, however, was for the Hat to open its mouth and… sing.

She watched bemusedly as the Hat merrily warbled about the four different houses. The song ended with a rousing round of applause from the seated students, and the first years felt a wave of anxiety wash over them. Even the arrogant blond boy looked rather peaky, Hermione noted with a hint of satisfaction. Then she was hit with a crippling punch of terror. Oh, God, what if she wasn’t in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor? She supposed Hufflepuff would be alright, as it was the house of loyalty and hard work, but what if she were to be put in Slytherin? Oh, God. Hermione was so preoccupied with her worries that she barely heard her name.

She walked, or rather jogged, to the stool. The Hall faded away, and the only thing she could see was the Sorting Hat. The journey to the stool seemed incredibly far and intimidating, but through her terrified haze, she spotted Fred, George and Lee at the Gryffindor table, and that released some of the tension stiffening her shoulders. When she finally reached the stool, she picked up the Hat and shoved it awkwardly on her head. It was so big it covered most of her face, and she closed her eyes. 

_Hmmm, you’re a tricky one, aren’t you?_ Hermione heard a small voice speaking in her mind and jumped. _Where to put you… where to put you… ___

 _Where do you think I’d be best?_ Hermione thought experimentally, then received a tiny thrill when the Hat spoke back. 

_Well, let’s see, shall we? Oooh, what a mind you have! I see brilliance, yes, and the potential… why, you’re a clear candidate for Ravenclaw, aren’t you, Hermione Granger? Slytherin… I think not, since you seem to detest cheating of any kind… Hufflepuff, I don’t think you’d do well… Gryffindor? You certainly are courageous, and have an intense drive to prove yourself… Why, that’s another house you would succeed in. So. Gryffindor or Ravenclaw it is. Let’s decide. Hermione Jean Granger, what will it be?_

Hermione tensed. So this was the final test. Choose. Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. She took a deep breath, trying to think logically. Ravenclaw would be the best choice, since she loved to learn and was extremely calculating. But there was something about Gryffindor that drew her in, the idea of courage and strength and determination. The cool reason that had never failed her before wasn’t directing her choice. Instead, the liberating heat of recklessness filled her and she firmly thought, _Gryffindor. I choose Gryffindor._

 _Really?_ The Hat seemed surprised. Interesting choice. _Well, Hermione Granger, Gryffindor it is. I expect great things from you, young witch, great things indeed._

With that parting remark, Hermione heard a great shout of, “Gryffindor!” and she slid the Hat off her head with shaking hands. 

The Hall filled with applause and cheers, mostly from the Gryffindor table. Her heart swelled as she looked to three specific people, and they were yelling the loudest of all. And it felt… right. Hermione had made the correct choice, after all. 

The Gryffindor table was rowdily cheering as she made her way towards them, and her face felt like it was splitting from the wideness of her beaming smile.

“Hermione!” She whirled to the sound of Fred’s voice, yelling over the noise. “We saved you a seat!” He patted the bench next to him.

She was floating on clouds and it was wonderful. 

“Thank you!” she whispered as she slid into the seat. The Hall had gone relatively quiet again, apart from some muttering, as the next first year approached the Sorting Hat.

It took a long time until it was Harry Potter’s turn, but when his name was called, everyone perked up and sat forward in their seats. Excited, hushed voices filled the air as the skinny, black-haired boy nervously picked up the Sorting Hat and dropped it onto his head. Hermione watched his brows furrow and hands clench. Something was happening inside Harry Potter’s head. 

The Sorting Hat let out a shout of, “Gryffindor!” and the Gryffindor table went wild. The twins started yelling, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” 

Harry made his way to the table, the color returning to his face as he started to smile. He gratefully fell into the seat offered to him by Lee Jordan.

Hermione zoned out slightly after that, idly twisting a loose thread in the tablecloth. She noticed the sneery blond boy, Draco Malfoy (and what a ridiculous name that was!) immediately get placed into Slytherin, and wasn’t really surprised. Ron was green and sweating as he was called up, but was placed into Gryffindor like he wanted. And the feast was finally able to start.

Everyone was starving, and Hermione was no exception, but when the food just… appeared on the table, she gaped for a solid minute. Until Fred nudged her and said, “What are you waiting for? Dig in!” and she piled her plate high with the delectable dishes arrayed in front of her. 

Hermione didn’t pay attention to anything for a few minutes, as she focused on eating her way through the mountain of food on her plate. But when she heard, “You were raised by Muggles, right, Harry?” she whipped around, meal forgotten for the time being.

“Yeah, I was. So what?” He looked at Seamus with a defiant expression.

Seamus looked slightly taken aback. “No problem, mate. Me mam’s a Muggle. And Dean here’s Muggleborn,” he said, poking the boy next to him playfully.

Dean grinned. “A real thrill, when I got my letter. I was like, what? I’m a wizard? Magic’s real?”

They all laughed, and Hermione felt brave enough to speak up.

“I’m a Muggleborn too,” she announced, “It’s just so exciting, learning all of these new things. I can’t wait for classes to start.”

Everyone laughed again, but it was different. It seemed to Hermione that they were laughing at her, instead of with her, and she wilted back against her chair. Fred noticed her change in mood and frowned.

“Hey, don’t feel bad,” he said gently, so none of the others could hear, “At least you aren’t like my brother, Percy.” Fred rolled his eyes. “He’s a massive prat, always going on about rules, and grades, and just being really obnoxious.”

Hermione shot him a smile. “Thanks, Fred.”

But while she pretended to be reassured, she was a writhing mass of anxiety and panic inside.

She was exactly like Percy, the obnoxious genius who cared too much about rules and schoolwork. How long would it be until the cool new friends she’d made saw her as she truly was?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fred meant well... but all will be reconciled... God, what have I gotten myself into? I'm gonna stop writing this scene-by-scene, instead jumping ahead a few days. I might make this a series, who knows. Anyway, leave some comments, leave some kudos, you know the drill. --xx Shippingslut


	5. Standing Up To Severus Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape bullies Neville in class, and Hermione gets angry.

Hogwarts was incredible. Absolutely amazing. There were moving portraits— _who could talk_ —comfortable dorms, delicious food, and, of course, actual school. Hermione couldn’t get enough. The only thing she was lacking in was friends. Fred, George, and Lee still talked to her at meals and waved in the hallways, but in her year, she was alone. Her acquaintanceship with Harry and Ron was short-lived, apparent when she tried to talk to them in Charms and they were, if not rude, dismissive and huffy. And her dorm mates (Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Kaori Shimizu, and Fay Dunbar) were really quite boring. And they didn’t seem to like her. 

So she buried herself in mountains of books and asked the teachers for extra homework, which they were shocked but delighted to give. McGonagall took a liking to her, which (as Fred informed her with a mouth full of meat pie) was extremely rare. However, there was one teacher that absolutely HATED her. For no reason. And this teacher was Severus Snape, the greasy, towering Potions Master. 

“Miss Granger!” Snape loomed over her, about three weeks into the year. “Pray, tell me, what is the correct stirring motion one must use when brewing a Dreamless Sleep Potion?”

That question was hard, nearly impossible to answer, and everyone knew it. Students didn’t even learn about the Dreamless Sleep Potion until fourth year. Snape was clearly trying to trip Hermione up, and the Gryffindors muttered angrily while the Slytherins smirked. 

But Hermione was Hermione, and there was no hesitation in her voice as she promptly recited, “When brewing a Dreamless Sleep Potion, one must stir one clockwise, two counter-clockwise, three left to right diagonals, and five clockwise. Then, the potion-maker must spin the cauldron 360 degrees and stir one counter-clockwise. Sir.” 

She sat back, triumphant, and she could _feel_ her classmates staring at her in grudging admiration. As much as Hermione annoyed them with her know-it-all attitude, they hated Snape even more, and it was a lovely thing to see him knocked down a few pegs.

Snape’s pitch-black eyes were unfathomable. “Correct.”

Hermione beamed. Snape moved on to Neville, whose face drained of color.

“Mr. Longbottom.”

Neville audibly gulped.

“Where does the healing draught known as Pepperup Potion originate?”

Silence. Neville had frozen in fear, knuckles turning white as he clung to his desk. Hermione raised her hand, since she knew the answer. It wasn’t a particularly hard question, as they had been learning about mild healing potions the day before. But Neville was known to freeze under pressure, and Snape’s cool gaze was especially intimidating.

Snape ignored her and glided slowly over to Neville. The poor boy was trembling, for goodness sake, and Hermione stretched her arm even higher. 

“Well, Mr. Longbottom?” he asked silkily.

“I-I dunno, sir,” squeaked Neville fearfully.

Snape raised one eyebrow, and this gesture alone was to enough to make Neville slide down in his seat. 

“You don’t know?” he reiterated mockingly.

Hermione had had enough of this. “Sir, I could tell you—”

“Miss Granger, silence. Now, Longbottom, why can’t you remember a single morsel of information you read? Not quite living up to your parents’ legacy, are you?”

The last sentence seemed to hit Neville hard and his face crumpled. Hot, righteous anger flowed through Hermione and a thought rose unbidden to her mind: what would Fred and George do? Not sit and observe a defenseless classmate being mercilessly bullied by a teacher. She took a deep breath and decided something.

“Sir,” she blurted, “Neville doesn’t know the answer but I do, so if you just—”

Snape’s demeanor seemed to change. “Miss Granger!” he roared, “You are out of line! Now sit down,” for Hermione had half-risen out of her seat in shock, “stop interfering, and for the love of Merlin, BE QUIET!”

Hermione clamped her mouth shut, fighting down the torrent of harsh words she longed to scream at the professor. He loved this, loved humiliating children to feel powerful, and she hated it. She hated _him_. But she knew that she couldn’t talk back to her professors, or there would be hell to pay. 

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, regaining control. “Ten points from Gryffindor.”

To Hermione’s surprise, Harry spoke up. “But Hermione wasn’t—”

“Silence, Potter!” Snape’s eyes flashed. “Another ten points.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged mutinous glances, but knew better than to provoke Snape any further. Before Snape could find another excuse to dock points, class was dismissed and Hermione quickly gathered her books and raced for the door. As she was walking down the hall, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“That was… really cool, what you did,” muttered Ron Weasley, Harry Potter right behind him.

Hermione went red. “Thanks, but he deserved it. I mean, what gives him the right, you know? Poor Neville.”

“Poor Neville,” Harry agreed.

The three stood there in silence for a moment.

“See you,” Ron eventually mumbled.

“Yeah, see you, Hermione.”

The two boys left and Hermione walked to lunch by herself, cheerily grinning. 

“What are you so happy about?” asked Fred as she sat down next to him.

“I stood up to Snape today,” she informed him, grabbing a sandwich and pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

Lee’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” he said gleefully. “You stood up to Snape?”

Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little offended. “He was being really mean to Neville, so I decided to take action.”

George shrugged. “Well, Snape is a lowlife—”

“Black-hearted—”

“Lily-livered—”

“No-good—”

“Scumbag.”

“Indeed he is, Freddy.”

“And good job for standing up to him, Hermione.” Fred smiled at her, wide and genuine, and she felt so happy she could burst. 

She stood up to Snape. What sort of rule-following prat would do that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, I do not like Snape. Even though he was kinda redeemed at the end, he picked on his students and was just an all around dick tbh. Just cuz he had a crush on Lily Evans doesn't mean he gets to bully kids. If you like Snape you can fight me. --xx Shippingslut


	6. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's excited for her first Hogwarts Halloween. But two boys threaten to ruin the whole thing.

It was Halloween and Hermione was almost bursting with excitement. Apart from Christmas, Halloween was her favorite holiday, and Hogwarts would likely put on a show.

“What do you mean, there’s no trick-or-treating?” she exclaimed, wheeling around to face Lee with a shocked expression on her face.

Lee shrugged. “I dunno. What’s the big deal, anyway?”

“What’s the—Lee, it’s the best thing to ever come out of Halloween! Dressing up, knocking on strangers’ doors, getting free candy… What’s not to like?”

“Sounds a bit boring.”

Hermione sighed, staring at the ceiling with a tragic expression on her face. 

“Bye, Lee, I’m off to Charms.”

“Alright, see you.” He walked away, bemusedly shaking his head.

Hermione went to class, books clutched tightly to her chest, still slightly let-down about the lack of trick-or-treating in the Wizarding World. But her disappointment was forgotten when Professor Flitwick revealed the day’s agenda: Levitation Charms!

She was paired with Ron Weasley, and pretended not to notice his eye-roll and Harry’s commiserating grimace as the two were parted.

“Hi, Ron!” she said brightly, ignoring the redhead’s scowl.

“’Lo.”

“So, shall we start? I’m really excited about learning this charm, ever since I read about it in one of our textbooks. Did you know that it was invented by—”

“Okay!” said Ron loudly, interrupting her prattle. “I’ll start.”

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the feather resting on the desk in front of him. 

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Hermione winced at the utter _wrongness_ of his technique and intonation. Hadn’t he been paying attention at all?

The feather didn’t move an inch, and Ron’s scowl grew even more pronounced. 

“It’s LeviOsa, not LevioSA,” she said, trying to be helpful. “And you have to swish and flick. You were doing it a bit wrong.”

“Well, why don’t you try it, since you're so clever?” Ron grumbled, clearly annoyed by her bossy tone.

“Fine,” said Hermione, offended, and pointed her wand at the feather. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The feather instantly rose into the air, and Hermione glanced delightedly at Ron, with no shortage of smugness.

“I did it!”

“Bully for you,” muttered Ron darkly, and promptly put his head down on the desk.

The thrill of her victory lifted her spirits for the rest of the lesson, giving her enough gumption to blithely ignore Ron’s filthy looks in her direction. Hermione was feeling the happiest she’d felt in a while… until after the lesson, when she overheard Harry and Ron discussing her in low voices.

“She’s a nightmare, honestly…”

“No wonder everyone hates her…”

And there was more, but Hermione rushed out of the classroom, trying to hold back her tears. She didn’t glance back to see their guilty faces, but made a beeline for the nearest bathroom.

Hermione opened a stall with shaking fingers and sank onto the ground, not caring how disgusting it was.

Sobs spilled out of her mouth, and she didn’t try to muffle them. All the emotions she’d kept bottled up, all of the rage and loneliness and fear she’d felt since arriving at Hogwarts were released in a torrent. 

Hermione was trying. She was only trying to make friends, to _help_ , but they still laughed at her, belittled her, bullied her. What was she doing wrong? What else was there to _do_? All she wanted to do was fit in... and everyone had rejected her. 

The bathroom door opened, and Hermione covered her mouth, trying to stop her noisy crying. It wouldn’t do to have someone hear or see her in such a miserable state.

Too late.

“Hermione? Is that you?” a soft female voice asked hesitantly.

She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Yes. Who is it?”

“It’s Parvati. Are you crying?” Parvati’s voice was filled with pity, and a little curiosity.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Hermione implored, “I don’t want them to know they got to me.”

“Who?”

“No one. I just… want to be alone, alright?”

“Okay. Sorry you’re crying, Hermione.”

Hermione could hear the other girl’s footsteps growing fainter, then fading to nothing at all.

She sighed a long, shaky sigh. Her crying spell was about over, but she didn’t want to leave the comfort of the solitary stall and face her tormentors. Also, her face was probably blotchy and puffed, and she was determined to keep her moment of weakness a secret. So Hermione resolved to stay in the stall just a little longer. She wasn’t particularly hungry, anyway. Skipping the feast wouldn’t be too bad.

Hermione languished in the bathroom for a long time, getting up the courage to leave. 

A knock on the door startled her. 

“Hermione? You in there?” called a steady voice she immediately recognized. 

“Yes,” she said, faltering.

“Come on, it’s the Halloween feast,” Fred Weasley wheedled, “Your very first.”

She sighed, then decided to just face him. Hermione smoothed her hair and took a shuddering breath, then walked out of the bathroom.

“How did you know I was in here?” she asked her friend.

He smiled. “Parvati.”

“How many people know?”

Fred shrugged. “I don’t know. But trust me, that is _not_ what people are talking about. Don’t worry about it.”

Relief washed over her. It would all be fine. 

When they walked in to the feast, Hermione ducked her head, self-conscious of her red eyes. Fred nudged her. 

“Hey, chin up.”

She slowly lifted her head. They sat down with Lee and George. Hermione avoided eye contact with Harry and Ron, who sat near them, but noticed that they both looked really guilty, which satisfied her the tiniest bit.

Before they could eat, however, Professor Quirrell sprinted in, holding his turban to keep it from flying off. Hermione stifled a giggle, but her amusement died down at his next words.

“Troll! In the dungeons!”

The students gasped, panicking and grabbing onto their friends. Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet. “Quiet!” His voice boomed throughout the hall and everyone fell silent.

“Now. Everyone, go to your common rooms, immediately. Prefects and Head Boy and Girl are in charge.”

Everyone stood and started to flood towards their respective common rooms. Through the noise, Hermione heard the blond Slytherin boy, Draco Malfoy, say with no small degree of panic in his voice, “But our dormitories are in the dungeons, aren’t they?”

 _Ha!_ thought Hermione. _Serves you right for being a prat._ Then she felt a little guilt, but brushed it off and went to find Fred and George.

“A _troll_ … A real troll… wow. Wonder if we could…” George cut off his sentence abruptly when Hermione approached the group.

“Guess this wasn’t what you had in mind when you talked about trick-or-treating, hey?” said Lee cheerfully.

She shook her head.

“Now, who was the dunghead who made you cr—erm, get upset?” asked George, changing his words after a meaningful glance from Fred.

Hermione snorted. “Just some idiots from Charms class. I’m alright now.”

Fred raised his eyebrows. “So, Ron and Harry, then?”

“I-I-yeah.” Hermione stammered, trying to contain her embarrassed flush. “It’s all fine now.”

Lee cracked his knuckles. “Don’t worry, Hermione. We have an epic prank coming their way.”

Hermione was horrified. “No!” she gasped. “You’ll get in trouble!”

George smirked at her. “No we won’t. And if, by some wildly impossible odds, we do, we can always talk our way out of it. Trust me, we’ve done it before.”

Hermione grimaced. “I still don’t like it, but… whatever you want to do, I suppose.”

Fred grinned at her. “Glad you’re on board.”

They reached the Gryffindor dorms, and Hermione went straight off to bed, ignoring the food set out in the common room. There had been too much excitement for one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making Draco whiny asf is my favorite thing. --xx Shippingslut


	7. The Prank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is somehow convinced to join the Weasley twins and Lee in an epic prank.

Never in her life had Hermione been more terrified. Somehow, Fred, George, and Lee had convinced her to join in on their “epic prank” that they were pulling on Harry and Ron.

“Come on, Hermione, they’re knobs,” coaxed George—

“ _Language_ \--”

“Sorry—”

“And they picked on you, so what’s the problem?” Fred took over. “Don’t you want revenge?”

She sighed. “I _suppose_ , but—”

“Great!” Fred grinned, throwing an arm over her shoulders. “Meet us in the common room at midnight.”

“We’ll get in so much trouble—”

“No we won’t,” reassured Lee, “And besides, Hermione, live a little. Pranks! Who doesn’t love those?”

And that is how Hermione Granger found herself in the Gryffindor boys dormitory at midnight, scared out of her wits while helping George charm his little brother’s pajamas to stick to his skin.

“And he can’t get them off?” Hermione whispered, hovering anxiously behind the redhead.

George turned around to flash an evil grin at her. “Not unless he figures out the counter-curse. And it’s really hard to figure out. We made this spell ourselves.”

“But that’s so dangerous!” said Hermione, horrified. “It could actually really hurt Ron.”

George shrugged, not looking too concerned. “It won’t. We tested all our spells on ourselves before we use them on other people.”

Hermione was torn between being impressed and being disapproving. But before she could either scold the twins and Lee or commend them, Harry let out a soft groan and they all froze. 

Hermione made a move for the door but Fred caught her arm. 

“I’m not done yet,” he whispered, urgency in his tone. “Stay until the prank’s finished.”

This was a terrible idea. Hermione knew it was. To stay meant potentially getting caught, expelled, and sent home, never to return to the magical world. But Fred’s pleading gaze bent her and she reluctantly consented, for better or for worse. God, she _hated_ peer pressure.

Fred finished charming Harry with a flourish of his wand, and they tiptoed to the door, wincing each time someone’s snoring stopped.

Once they were back in the common room, Hermione sank down onto one of the cozy chairs lining the fireplace and closed her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Lee asked with concern.

“Just give me a minute,” she murmured, relishing the relief spreading through her body.

Fred sat down next to her. “How does it feel? Your first Weasley prank.”

She shook her head. “God, that was so dangerous.” Her eyes snapped open and she shot out of the chair. “We all could have been killed! Or worse,” she smiled grimly, “expelled.”

“Killed?” George scoffed. “That’s a little melodramatic.”

“Well, for all _you_ know, Harry could have powers beyond imagination. He could have murdered us all! He still might, once he discovers that his pajamas won’t come off,” she added as an afterthought. “The point is, I don’t like pranks and I don’t like taking risks! You’re third years, and you all come from Wizarding families. I’m a Muggleborn. I can’t risk getting expelled. If that happens, it’s all over for me.” 

The three boys looked at one another, cowed.

“We’re sorry we pressured you, ‘Mione,” said Fred sheepishly.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“What was the counter-curse, by the way? Just-just for research purposes,” she added hastily.

Fred laughed. “ _I am a stupid bullying wanker_. My idea.”

Hermione smirked a little despite herself. “I don’t condone the use of that language,” she said sternly, trying to control herself.

“Sure you don’t,” said George, shaking his head.

Once Hermione’s heart rate had slowed down a touch, she departed for her dorms with a wave goodbye to her friends.

 _Playing pranks isn’t all that bad,_ she thought as she tried to fall asleep. _The adrenaline rush is invigorating. And the sense of comradery that one receives… it may be worth the danger._

And, she had to admit, it was extremely satisfying to see Harry and Ron frowning as they trudged to the hospital wing, still in their pajamas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you want, they're always super lovely to read--xx Shippingslut


	8. Interlude: Stupid Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry loses a ton of points for Gryffindor, and Hermione is not pleased.

“I’m sorry.”

" _We're_ sorry, Hermione."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, surveying the two boys before her. 

“I forgive you,” she eventually told them.

Harry and Ron let out sighs of relief, glancing at each other, then at her.

Though she wasn’t precisely sure what had prompted them to apologize, she had a pretty good idea. One involving Fred, George, and Lee, and possibly the prank they’d pulled two days before.

“Good,” said Ron with relief. “We don’t want any more pranks pulled on us.”

She smirked. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

Harry shrugged. “Whatever. As long as we’re okay,” he said, fixing her with an eagle’s glare.

“We’re good.”

The three solemnly nodded at each other, and Hermione spun on her heel, heading towards her dormitory.

She needed to catch up on sleep.

 

…

 

Months after the incident, Hermione was sitting on her bed reading an enormous book she’d borrowed from the library. It was extremely interesting, detailing ancient studies and theories that still existed in the magical world today. She’d just began the section on alchemy, and was reading about the Philosopher’s Stone, when Lavender burst into the room, eyes blazing.

Hermione looked up from the page. “What’s wrong?”

Lavender hurried over and plopped on the bed next to Hermione. They weren’t _friends_ , really, but Lavender talked to everyone. She wasn’t all bad, despite seeming materialistic and shallow sometimes.

“Harry was found last night on the _top of the Astronomy Tower_ ,” Lavender whispered, face flushed with indignation and excitement. “And Neville was there, too. Ron’s still in the Hospital Wing, or else he’d have been there, obviously—”

“Get to the point!” Hermione said, rather rudely.

Lavender looked offended, but continued eagerly. “Harry and Neville lost _50 points_ for Gryffindor.”

Hermione gasped.

“ _Each_.” Lavender added, with an air of awful finality. 

“Those—those—”

“Idiots, I know,” sighed the other girl. 

“What were they even doing on the tower in the first place?”

Lavender shrugged. “All that matters is that we have no chance of winning the House Cup now,” she remarked gloomily. “Slytherin will probably get it… again.”

They sat there, stewing. 

“Well, I’m off to tell everyone else,” said Lavender, getting up with a groan. “Have fun… reading.” She dashed off.

Hermione couldn’t focus on her book. 

Alchemy, as interesting as it was, couldn’t distract her from her rage at Harry Potter. Hermione’s lips pressed together in a thin line. While winning the House Cup would have been the best way to end the year, it wasn’t everything. No, she was pissed at how stupid Harry had been. She wasn’t that angry at Neville, since he had obviously been an unwilling accomplice. But Harry… he thought he was invincible. That since he was so famous and loved by the Wizarding World, that he could get away with whatever moronic stunt he decided to pull. Arrogance, she decided, closing the book, was his weakness. That Gryffindor recklessness, that feeling of being unbeatable, would get him in a lot of trouble one day.

And it would take a lot of people down with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was such a short chapter, guys. I'm working on about a million other writings at the moment, and finals are coming up as well. I'll update soon, I promise. --xx Shippingslut


	9. Exams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds out exactly why she breaks down under pressure.

“I’m going to fail,” Hermione stated with absolute certainty. “I’m going to lose my head and forget everything and fail.”

It was exam week, and the first years were terrified. Although the tests weren’t likely to be very hard, teachers had been stressing them to be the most important things they’d ever do in their lives.

And Hermione was about to fall apart.

Harry and Ron had casually asked her earlier if she’d help them prepare, but they were definitely not prepared for the intensity that Hermione studied. After 2 hours of extreme studying, Ron had walked out, claiming that he couldn’t take it anymore, that he would rather fail than, in his words, “stay in this bloody room with these stupid books and this insufferable girl!”

It hadn’t fazed her, as she was too stressed out to even realize he was gone, and she and Harry studied for another two hours.

“Okay.” Harry closed his book with a sharp _snap_. “I’m done.”

Hermione looked up from her Charms notes with wild eyes. “What? But we still haven’t gone over the proper technique to use when Transfiguring a live animal, and—”

“Hermione.” Harry rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Really?” She glanced over. “We won’t have enough time!”

Harry stifled a yawn. “Come on. You’re the cleverest person I know, and the best in our class. You’re the last one who should be worried about passing.” He stood up. “I’m going to bed. You should too, or else you’re gonna fall asleep in the middle of an exam.”

He departed to the boy’s dormitory.

Hermione pushed her frizzy hair behind her ears and blinked rapidly, her eyelids heavy.

“All right,” she said aloud. “Spinning Charms. Sp-spinning Ch—”

She never finished her sentence. 

Fred and George found her the next morning, facedown in a messy pile of parchment. 

“Hermione?” Fred gently shook her.

She raised her head groggily. “What time… what time is it?”

“You missed breakfast.”

Hermione sat up suddenly. “I have to—I have to study! Oh, Merlin, I didn’t mean to sleep so _long_ , oh no—”

“Hey.” Fred placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Besides, and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but you need your sleep.”

George sniggered. “You sound like Mum.”

“Hey!” Fred playfully shoved his brother, then turned his attention back to Hermione. “I’m serious.”

Hermione tried to suppress a smile. Fred’s eyebrows were upturned in genuine concern… and he just looked so… _funny_. 

A giggle burst out of her mouth, which soon turned into a full-blown, hearty laugh. The twins looked bemused for a moment, but couldn’t resist joining in.

“Laughing at me, young lady?” Fred tried to imitate Professor McGonagall, which only set them off further.

“Detention! I will not be disrespected!” George shook his finger angrily at her and pretended to peer sternly over spectacles.

Fred doubled over, and Hermione swiped at the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

“Stop,” she gasped. “I have to go to my Transfiguration exam today and I won’t be able to look Professor McGonagall in the face without thinking of—” A fresh wave of laughter overtook her, and she was unable to finish her sentence, putting her head down as the twins looked at each other, their amusement dissipating. 

“Er, Hermione?” asked George.

Her laughter had become a bit hysterical, and the twins could hear sobs in between the giggles.

Fred put a hand on her shoulder. “Try to take a deep breath.”

Hermione looked up, tear tracks down her face and hair springing everywhere. Fred thought she looked a little maniacal, and he wondered whether he should take her to the hospital wing. 

“Hermione? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” George asked first, and for the thousandth time, Fred was silently grateful for the unspoken connection he and his twin shared.

“Do I have time? I don’t want to miss my exam,” she whispered.

George looked at Fred, and an agreement passed between them. Simultaneously, they each grabbed an arm and frog-marched her out of the common room, through the portrait (“Dear Lord! What are you boys doing to that poor lass?” the Fat Lady exclaimed), and deposited her at the hospital wing. 

“Please, Madam Pomfrey, I need to get to my Transfiguration exam,” Hermione pleaded, attempting to evade the nurse’s clutches, “It’s very soon.”

“Miss Granger, sit down and let me examine you! Your exam can wait. Professor McGonagall will understand.”

Hermione relented, sitting down in the proffered chair with a reluctant roll of the eyes. Madam Pomfrey sat down across from her, a concerned expression crossing her kind face.

“Now, dear, what is the matter?”

The girl sighed, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. “I’ve been stressed, I suppose,” she grumbled.

“How stressed? Misters Weasley seemed worried enough to bring you here, and I’ve seen them refusing treatment for huge injuries. Now tell me, what’s going on?” Madam Pomfrey’s words were gentle, but Hermione could sense the force behind them.

She swallowed. “Fine. I’m really stressed, and I don’t know, I guess they got scared because sometimes when I’m stressed, I get… different.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded and sat forward slightly. “How so?” 

“I can’t seem to stop doing whatever I’m doing. In this case, it was laughing. I laughed so hard I cried. Other times, it’s tapping or humming or rocking. And sometimes, my eye starts pulsing and it doesn’t stop and it scares me so much I cry, and I can’t stop doing that, either.” Her words flooded out of her in a quiet, fearful rush. “I thought it would go away but it hasn’t.”

Madam Pomfrey’s eyes softened as she took in the small, nervous girl in front of her. “My dear, if I am not mistaken, I believe you have some variation of anxiety.”

“That—that’s a medical condition?”

The nurse smiled. “Yes. And it is perfectly all right to have. Just so long as you take the proper potions, and practice the breathing exercises I shall give to you, you will be just fine.”

Hermione sat back in her chair, so relieved she could have cried. “Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. Really.”

“I’ll go get those potions for you.”

 

…

 

“I hope I did well,” Hermione fretted as she walked briskly down the corridor, Harry and Ron struggling to keep up with her. 

“Don’t even talk, Hermione,” retorted Ron, “I swear, I forgot every single thing I studied the moment I looked at the first question. You’re the last one who should be worrying.”

Strangely, Ron’s harsh, clipped tone did wonders for Hermione’s mood. She shakily smiled.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Ron glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “Brilliant.”

Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Only one exam left,” he said. “One.”

“Thank God,” muttered Ron. “Then we can work on the—”

Harry nudged his friend, and Ron broke off, glancing nervously at Hermione.

“Work on what?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, seriously. What? I could help you,” she offered.

“Ron’s just talking about this other thing,” Harry said hastily. “It’s not important.”

Hermione dropped the subject, although she wasn’t sure she believed them.

Whatever. It couldn’t be that important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my personal headcanon that Hermione has some form of anxiety, so hopefully I represented it well. If not, let me know. Anyway, thanks for reading! I'll try to write longer chapters, but I have a ton of stuff to do as well, so wish me luck :D--xx Shippingslut


	10. The Trapdoor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's suspicious of Harry and Ron, and decides to see what they're up to. Fred comes along for the ride, and they aren't prepared as to what they find.

Later that week, Hermione caught the boys sneaking down a corridor on the 3rd floor. All of the exams were over, and the only thing left to do was to panic about her future. Fed up, George had pushed her out of the common room and told her not to come back until she’d calmed down.

“Hey!”

They both jumped, whirling around with guilty faces.

“What are you doing here? You know you’re not allowed to be here,” Hermione said bossily, hands on her hips.

Ron glanced at Harry with a panicked expression. The other boy was obviously thinking fast, and Hermione sighed, knowing they were keeping a huge secret from her.

“We were—we were—” Harry stammered, “We were just taking a walk.”

“On the third floor, near the forbidden door that Professor Dumbledore _explicitly_ warned us never to enter?”  
Hermione pursed her lips. “Honestly, it’s like you think I’m an idiot or something.”

Ron groaned. “Just… don’t ask, Hermione. We’re not gonna tell you, so just give up.”

“Yeah,” Harry chimed in, “Can’t you keep your nose out of our business?”

Hermione huffed, insulted. “Fine! If you get in trouble, don’t come crying to me.” She turned and stormed away, robes flowing behind her.

“We won’t!” called Ron.

 

…

 

“Do you think I should tell someone? A teacher, maybe?” asked Hermione fearfully, twisting her hands together in her lap.

She’d gone to the boys, unsure of what to do about the Harry and Ron situation.

George shrugged. “Just wait for it to blow over. It really isn’t your problem, you know,” he gently reminded her. “If those two gits get themselves expelled, well, they weren’t smart enough to not get caught.”

“But—but they could be doing something really quite dangerous!” she fretted. “And if they get hurt—”

“You don’t know that,” said Lee.

Hermione stood up. “I’m going to Professor Dumbledore,” she said resolutely. “It could be nothing, but I’m not going to take that chance.”

The boys looked at each other, but said nothing to stop her as she walked to the portrait hole.

“Wait.”

She paused. “What is it?”

Fred was up and walking towards her. “They’ve been nothing but bullies to you. Why would you want to help them?”

Hermione drew herself up, head level with Fred’s chin. “Because I am Hermione Granger.”

Fred grinned. “Yes, indeed you are.” He paused. “Let’s go tell Dumbledore.”

He lifted her out of the portrait hole (“Oh, my! A little boisterous for my tastes,” said the Fat Lady) and they were off to the Headmaster’s tower.

However, they didn’t quite reach it.

“Miss Granger! Mr. Weasley!”

Hermione and Fred winced simultaneously as Professor McGonagall’s stern voice sounded from behind them. However, she didn’t sound that angry, just tired and irritated.

“If I see one more student running around the school for no apparent reason…” She sighed.

“Professor,” Hermione began, disregarding Fred’s warning look, “We have to tell Professor Dumbledore something. It may turn out to be nothing, but—”

Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. “You happen to be the second pair of students to ask this question. If this is about the same issue that Mr. Potter and the other Mr. Weasley were talking to me about, then I do not want to hear it.”

“They were here?” asked Hermione excitedly. “Professor, I think they might be up to something.”

“Of course you do.” Professor McGonagall shook her head, exasperated. “Let’s hear it, Miss Granger.”

“Well,” Hermione began, “I really don’t want to get them in trouble, you know, but I can’t stay quiet. They’ve been sneaking out, being secretive, whispering things about a _three-headed dog_ , of all things—”

Hermione paused, as the Professor’s face had gone pale upon hearing those last few words.

“Professor?”

“Merlin,” she gasped, “I—I need to get down there at once.”

And she hurried off, black robes flapping behind her.

Fred grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her behind a nearby pillar.

“Reckon we should follow her?” he asked, eyes alight with mischief.

Hermione hesitated, biting her lip. She _did_ want to know what Professor McGonagall had been so alarmed about, but… there were the rules, and the fear of getting caught, and that _responsibility_ her dad always yammered on about.

“C’mon,” Fred coaxed, “It’ll be an adventure.”

And there was the word that weakened her, sparked a flame inside her chest, a yearning for something more than books and studying and sedentary life…

“All right.”

“Really?”

Hermione nodded firmly, walking out from the pillar. “What are you waiting for?”

 

…

 

Professor McGonagall tapped her wand against the lock. “Alohomora,” she muttered, glancing around to check the emptiness of the corridor.

Hidden beneath, peeking out from one of the twins’ secret trapdoors, Fred and Hermione watched with baited breath, and relaxed when McGonagall slipped inside.

“Our turn,” Fred whispered, helping Hermione out of the trapdoor.

“Alohomora,” Hermione said, copying McGonagall’s movements. To her delight, the door opened with a _click_.

The two peered inside, then, immediately whirled away, breathing hard, backs braced against the door.

“There’s a bloody dog with three heads in there,” remarked Fred, passing a hand over his eyes. “How in the world are we supposed to get past that?”

“Er,” said Hermione, then stopped, because she really didn’t have any idea.

“How about music?”

Hermione spun around, terrified, and then relaxed when she saw Harry and Ron.

“What the—bloody hell!” she spat, relieved but heart still pounding.

“Never knew you had such a mouth on you, Granger,” said Fred, grinning. “But really, ickle Ronnie, what _are_ you blokes doing here?”

“We’re trying to stop Snape,” Ron blurted out. “He’s working for You-Know-Who.”

“ _What_?”

“Long story. There’s something called ‘The Philosopher’s Stone’ down there, and it could bring You-Know-Who back to full power. Snape’s trying to steal it.”

“Well, we’re coming with you!” said Hermione with a steely glint in her eye.

Ron snorted. “Like hell,” he mumbled, shooting an amused glance at Harry.

She stamped her foot in frustration, which she instantly regretted, as it seemed a rather childish thing to do, considering the circumstances.

“We _are_. Right, Fred?”

Fred shrugged. “Alright. Could be fun, I suppose. Stopping an evil wizard and all that. I always knew Snape was a slimy git, but I wouldn’t think he’d stoop this low,” he added.

Harry snorted. “I would.”

The four stood in silence for a moment, trying to pretend they weren’t all edging towards the door.

“What’s that you said about music, Harry?” asked Fred, hand already on the knob. 

“You’re not coming,” said Ron loudly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “ _Honestly_. I thought we already had this conversation.” She clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt, because she was so damn _tired_ of being treated like she wasn’t part of them, wasn’t cool enough, wasn’t plain _good_ enough. “Fred and I are coming.”

Harry sighed, glancing anxiously towards Ron. “Mate, I hate to say this, but--”

“Harry,” growled the redhead.

“We’re losing time. Just agree. Please, for me.”

Ron seemed to have an internal battle, ending in a curt nod and a stormy frown.

“Brilliant.” Fred slowly opened the door.

Harry pulled out a small, roughly-hewn wooden flute and began to blow, face turning bright red. Hermione would normally have giggled at the constipated expression on his face, but the mature half of her scolded her sternly for having such an urge in the midst of an important mission. The most important mission, perhaps, she would ever face.

The three-headed-dog didn’t look as threatening when it was fast asleep. On their way to a trapdoor underneath its feet (Hermione was silently grateful that Harry and Ron had the foresight to plan atleast something) Fred patted one of its noses, suppressing a grin at the look on Hermione’s face.

“What?” he whispered. “It looks so peaceful.”

And then they were at the trapdoor, staring down into black nothingness.

“So… what are we supposed to do?”

Harry shrugged. “Jump, I reckon.”

“Jump?” Hermione was horrified. “We could die! For all you know, the bottom’s 10 kilometers down! Don’t you have a plan?”

Harry looked somewhat overwhelmed. “Er--”

Fred sighed. “I’m jumping.”

Hermione grabbed at him too late. Fred was already falling.

“Fred!” she called anxiously, heart in her throat. “Are you all right?”

A few nerve-wracking seconds later, he responded. “Yeah, I landed on some plant things--Oh, bollocks!”

“I’m coming down!” she shouted, closing her eyes and falling without even thinking.

Hermione landed with a thump on a mass of soft vegetation. She squinted, trying to see through the thick darkness. 

“Fred?” she squeaked, suddenly very afraid.

“Hermione--brilliant. I’m trapped.”

There were two other thumps, as Harry and Ron had also jumped.

“Don’t move!” she hissed, feeling vines creeping up her legs. “I just have to remember--what the hell are these?” 

“Can’t--breathe!” choked Ron from somewhere to her left.

She was nearly on the verge of tears, struggling to remember, to _remember_ when suddenly it came to her-- “Fire,” she breathed, drawing her wand.

“Incendio,” gasped Fred, right beside her, thrashing and pulling on the vines, “Use it..”

“Incendio!” she cried, pointing her wand at the snake-like Devil’s Snare. The blaze lit up the room, illuminating the boys’ blue and desperate faces. She burned away the plants, feeling powerful and in control, _finally_. 

The boys lay panting and bruised, brushing ashes off their robes.

“Are you all right?” Hermione ran to Fred, kneeling over his prone form.

“Yeah--I’m absolutely marvelous,” he quipped in a scratchy voice.

She laughed out of giddiness and sheer relief.

“Come on,” Harry said, painfully walking to the door on the other side of the room, “We haven't got time.”

The four hesitantly looked inside the slightly cracked door.

“Merlin,” whispered Ron, an appropriate sentiment for the sight they encountered.

“They're keys,” Fred pointed out, “flying keys that we have to catch.” He motioned to a pair of brooms propped next to the door.

“Of course,” Hermione breathed, slapping a hand to her forehead. “Of _course_ \--”

“What? What is it?”

“The professors, they all made an obstacle.” The words tumbled out of her in excitement. “The Devil's Snare was Sprouts. This is Flitwick’s. There must be more, different rooms for each subject. Different obstacles that we need to pass.”

Fred nodded slowly. “Makes sense. Dumbledore probably made each teacher put them up.” He grinned. “Well, lucky that Harry's such a brilliant Seeker, right?”

He caught the key in minutes. Even Hermione, who knew absolutely nothing about flying, was impressed. There was no time for congratulations, though. The four rushed through the door and into a giant chess arena. Great. Another area in which Hermione was clueless.

Fortunately, Ron was not.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m fair at chess. No offense, mates, but all of you are bloody terrible. Even you, Fred.”

Fred acknowledged this with a nod, motioning Ron forward. Ron gulped, suddenly aware of the responsibility on his shoulders. 

“Alright.”

It was nervewracking to watch. Hermione clenched her jaw so tightly her teeth ached as Ron directed their friends around the giant chessboard.

It seemed to be going so well until--

“It’s no use.” 

Hermione froze. “What?”

Ron stared stoically ahead at the menacing figure of the queen, who blocked the door that led beyond.

“I’ll have to sacrifice myself.”

“Wait. Ron--” Fred reached out, but Ron batted him away.”

“It’s fine. She won’t kill me, just knock me out.”

Harry shot a nervous glance at Hermione. “How sure are you?”

Ron took a deep breath, his fair skin going pasty pale. “80%. It’ll be all right. I mean, we have to stop Snape, don’t we?” 

“Ron--” She stopped, not quite knowing what she was going to say. “You’re very brave for doing this.”

His face softened the tiniest bit. “Yeah. Well, we don’t have much time to lose. Hermione, when--when I’m out, move a space to the left. That wins the game for us.”

She nodded.

Ron took a last look around the room, and stepped forward, closing his eyes tightly.

The queen struck him hard on the top of the head, and dragged him to the side of the board. He was knocked out, but Hermione could see his chest rising and falling.

She shakily moved a space to the left. The queen inclined her head, and the three ran to Ron’s side.

“Do you think he’s alright?” Hermione asked, heart thumping.

Fred felt for a pulse. “Yeah. Just passed out.” His face was drawn, and Hermione suddenly remembered that Ron was his brother.

“Fred, are you--”

“Peachy.”

Harry stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re losing time,” he said, voice shaking slightly but still clear and strong.

“Harry--”

“Stay with him. I can go on alone.”

Hermione stood up. “I’m coming with you.”

To her surprise, the boys didn’t argue.

“I’ll bring Ron to the Hospital Wing,” Fred announced, hoisting his brother to a standing position. Ron moaned, eyelashes fluttering. “And tell whoever listens that you guys need help.”

Harry nodded. Hermione ran to Fred and threw her arms around him, making him stagger under the sudden assault.

“Hey,” he whispered into her hair, “You’ll be fine. You’re Hermione Granger.”

She pulled away, feeling strangely tearful. “I’ll see you later.”

“Hopefully,” Harry muttered, taking her hand and pulling her through the next door.

She looked back, seeing Fred carry his brother across the room. “Bye!”

“Good luck,” he called.

Then the door slammed behind them and they saw no more of the Weasley brothers.

“Ugh,” said Harry, pinching his nose tightly. “I’m glad someone did this task for us.”

Hermione wholeheartedly agreed.

They stepped over the unconscious troll, careful not to touch it. Then, they were on to the next room.

The room was dark and musty, smelling like the Potions classroom. For good reason, as there, in the middle of the room, sat a table with a line of differently shaped and sized bottles.

“There’s no way out,” said Harry, pacing the room. “Unless you know a spell that makes you impervious to fire--”

“That won’t work,” she cut in. “The teachers are too smart for that to get past them. No, the only way through the door is drinking one of these potions.”

She waved a piece of parchment at him, one she’d found on the table. 

“It’s a logic puzzle. Good thing I’m brilliant at these,” she remarked, frowning down at the words.

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onwards neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

“Wow,” she breathed, looking at Harry in amazement. “ _Wow_ \--Snape really knows his stuff.”

Harry frowned. “Evil git.”

She shrugged. “Smart evil git.”

Hermione looked at the puzzle again, then back at the table.

_Okay. To solve a puzzle, one compiles all the information. What do I know so far? 1. Poison is always to the left of nettle wine. 2. The potions at either end won’t help us, but are different. So one must be poison, and one must be wine or the potion to move backwards. 3. The smallest and the largest aren’t deadly. 4. The second on the left and second on the right taste the same, but in different bottles. All right. Now to figure out which bottles will kill us and which won’t. The potion on the left of nettle wine is poison. And each end is different… so one poisonous potion is on the left end. Then comes nettle wine. Then… one of the potions to move forwards or backwards. The next one has to be poison. And therefore the next is wine. And then… wait, there are two left. I must have made a mistake somewhere. Unless… unless there were two poisons in a row. It didn’t violate the instructions, and it’s the only possible solution. Okay. So I’m at the last one. This must be the potion to move back, since the clue said it wouldn’t help us in advancing. And the third left potion is the one we need._

“Solved it,” she said triumphantly, clapping her hands.

Harry stared at her in disbelief. “But that was impossible! How did you--” He shook his head. “You know what, I’m not asking questions.”

She picked up the smallest bottle, the potion that would help them advance. “It’s only enough for one person,” she said in dismay, glancing up at Harry to gauge his reaction.

His shoulders slumped. “You know which potion sends you backwards, right?” he asked, sounding resigned and a little bit panicky.

“Yes, but--”

“Go.”

She stared at him. “What?”

Harry took the bottle from her. “Go back and bring help. I… I suppose I need to do this on my own.”

Hermione ran through the options in her head but there simply was no way to go with him.

“Fine.” She took a deep breath and unscrewed the potion vial. “And… good luck, Harry.”

He nodded gravely. “You too.” Harry paused. “You know, you’re absolutely brilliant, Hermione.”

A warm sort of glow started growing inside her. “Books and cleverness.”

“Still.”

“Thank you. Really-- Harry,” she stopped. “You don’t die in there.”

He swallowed, motioning for her to go through the flames. She drank the potion, shuddering at the cold sensation flooding her veins, and stepped through.

The rest of the day was a blur. She vaguely remembered flying shakily back up through the trapdoor, sprinting up to Dumbledore’s office, meeting him halfway there and telling him the short version of the story, then collapsing in the Hospital Wing.

“Will he be alright?” Hermione asked, gasping for breath, as she wasn’t used to this much running in one day.

“He will be, dear,” said Madam Pomfrey, tipping a potion into Ron’s slightly open mouth.

“Good,” said George feverently. “Mum would kill us if something happened to Ron.”

Fred had wasted no time; all of Hogwarts had been alerted and Dumbledore was contacted. The Weasley boys, Lee, and Hermione were all sitting by Ron’s bed.

“Poppy!”

The group spun around to see Dumbledore running into the Hospital Wing, a badly injured and unconscious Harry in his arms.

“Oh, goodness!” Madam Pomfrey shrieked. She gently took Harry from Dumbledore and lay him on a bed, then rushing off to gather supplies.

The twins, Lee, and Hermione immediately demanded to know what had occurred, plying Dumbledore with questions and queries.

He raised a hand and they stopped talking.

“I understand you are curious,” he said calmly, “But I am afraid I cannot tell you what happened until Mr. Potter wakes up.”

They didn’t pry anymore, knowing it would be no use.

 

…

 

“Harry’s awake.”

Hermione flew out of her chair in the common room. “Can we see him?”

Fred grinned. “Yeah. Come on.”

They crept up to Harry’s bed, wary of Madam Pomfrey, who was reluctant to let them in.

“Alright, Harry?”

“Hey, Fred. Hi, Hermione.”

Ron was already sat in a chair at the foot of his bed.

“So I guess you guys want to know what happened.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Just tell the story, Potter.”

Harry began from where they had parted ways. He’d gone through the flames, expecting to face Snape, but what he found instead was… Professor Quirrell.

“No!” gasped Fred. “The twitchy bloke? The one George and I threw snowballs at?”

Harry smiled grimly. “And that’s not all.”

Apparently, _You-Know-Who himself_ had been there, on the back of Quirrell’s head! McGonagall was out of commission. Luckily, she hadn’t been killed, but cursed badly all the same. Harry and Quirrell talked for a bit, Quirrell revealing his evil plot and unmasking the back of his head, occupied by You-Know-Who. By some magical occurrence, Harry procured the Stone. Then, for reasons Harry didn’t quite explain completely, Quirrell backed off and Dumbledore arrived to save the day.

“And then I woke up here.”

There was a silence.

“Wow,” said Lee, echoing the feelings of the group. “Wow, Harry.”

He shrugged. “Been through worse, I suppose, even though I don’t remember that.”

The mood soured and Harry bit his lip awkwardly.

“Out!” Madam Pomfrey bustled in, waving her hands at the group. “You’ve talked for long enough. It’s time for Mr. Potter’s afternoon potion.”

They reluctantly filed out.

“See you later, Harry!”

“Thanks for stopping by!”

They didn’t see him again until the feast.

 

…

 

“We won,” Hermione whispered, her voice immediately covered by the screams and hollers of Gryffindor House. “We _won_.”

It had been an emotional day. The Gryffindors were gloomy the whole day, seeing the Slytherins’ proud grinning and puffing of chests. But of course, Dumbledore saved the day yet again. Hermione was slightly disapproving of the sudden change, as Dumbledore should have been more professional. But even she had to admit, winning the House Cup was an ecstatic experience. Also, she took vindictive pleasure in watching Draco Malfoy sulk into his goblet.

 

…

 

“See you in September, Harry!”

“You too,” he mumbled, looking less than enthusiastic about getting in the car with his surly uncle. He departed with a wave of his hand and a longing look towards the Hogwarts Express, the steam just beginning to settle.

“So this must be Hermione!” 

She turned to see a plump, kindly-looking woman bearing down on her, a flood of red-haired children behind her.

“I’m Molly Weasley. Ron and the twins are my sons, as you may already have guessed.”

Hermione nodded, feeling a bit awkward with all the eyes staring at her.

“Well, dear, it was nice to meet you,” said Mrs. Weasley, beaming. “I hope to see you around.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” said Hermione, genuinely liking this woman.

The Weasleys took off, Fred giving her a hug, George a handshake, and Ron a civil nod.

“Hermione!”

“Mum! Dad! Oh, I’ve missed you!”

Her parents enveloped her in a warm embrace and Hermione breathed in the scent of home.

She pulled away, grinning mischievously at her parents.

“I have got a _lot_ to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I am so so sorry for the wait. It took me a really short time to write this really long chapter, actually (except for the part where Hermione figures out the puzzle. I'm not as smart as her, so it didn't take a mere five minutes), but it took me a long time to find time to write it. So, this is the end of first year. Tell me in the comments if I should continue with second year, because I'm going to be pretty busy this upcoming school year and I don't know if I should prioritize this fix, or what. It's all up to you guys lol :) Thanks for reading, and please leave kudos if you liked it!--xx Shippingslut


	11. Second Year, Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's first day of second year holds some surprises.

It had been a long summer, a long and surprisingly lonely one. As much as Hermione loved her parents, they, along with the rest of the Muggle world, seemed _boring_ next to the adventures she’d faced. She’d finished her summer homework a week after term had ended, and she was stuck with nothing to do. The Muggle kids on her street disliked the strange Granger girl who read all the time and muttered nonsensical Latin words under her breath.

She’d counted the days until she went shopping in Diagon Alley with the Weasleys, which turned out to be chaotic and wonderful at the same time. The twins took her to joke shops and candy stores, and Harry had even gotten lost down Knockturn Alley! Oh, and she’d seen the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes upon: Gilderoy Lockhart. When he announced that he was to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, she’d nearly died from happiness. (It might have been part of the reason she was so anxious to get to Hogwarts.)

“I want to introduce you to my school friends,” she told her parents, pulling them along to the barrier. They were a bit early, but Hermione liked to be punctual whenever possible.

They went through the barrier, her parents shuddering at the sensation of the portal. Wonder replaced discomfort when the three laid eyes once again upon the bright red Hogwarts Express, steam curling and hissing through the air.

Hermione looked anxiously around for her friends. The Weasleys and Harry were nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Hermione,” she heard, and spun around to find Lee Jordan, beaming and waving.

“Mum and Dad, this is Lee.”

Lee shook hands with her parents, seeming to take an instant liking to them. 

“Are Fred and George with you?” she asked, peering behind him as if he had the twins hidden behind his back.

“No,” said Lee, shrugging. “Don’t worry, they’re always a bit late. It’s hard for Mrs. Weasley. Remember, seven kids!”

Hermione nodded, remembering the Weasleys as an unruly bunch. She and Lee chatted for a bit, loading their trunks onto the train and waving to friends and acquaintances from last year.

“Hey, Lav!” 

Lavender gave a brusque nod, turning away quickly. Hermione took a deep breath and shook the humiliation off, ignoring Lee’s sympathetic look.

“I hope your friends get here soon, Hermione,” said Mrs. Granger, glancing worriedly at the clock. “They only have a few minutes until the barrier closes.”

Lee nodded. “They’re usually a bit late, but not this late.”

Just as the words left his mouth, Hermione was caught in a flurry of red hair and freckles. 

“Fred! George!” 

They hugged, the twins doing their best to squeeze the breath out of her. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Fred and George,” her father said formally, sticking out his hand.

Hermione elbowed Fred, catching his mischievous look at George. “They’re my _parents_ ,” she hissed.

Fred looked sheepish. “Sorry, ‘Mione, it’s hard to turn off,” he whispered, then laughed at his own innuendo.

Hermione rolled her eyes, secretly glad he was still the same old Fred.

“Hey, where’re Harry and Ron?” she asked, looking around.

George shrugged. “Probably on the train already,” he said confidently. “Don’t worry about them.”

Did George _know_ her? Worrying was Hermione’s specialty. By the time they’d boarded, she’d constructed an elaborate scenario where the boys had been kidnapped by Voldemort. Even the twins were puzzled by this point.

“Huh,” said Lee. “Where _are_ they?”

George bit his lip, maneuvering them into a compartment and closing the door. 

“If we don’t see them when we arrive, I’ll owl Mum,” Fred assured them. “’Course, she’ll probably blame us for not looking after the two scamps properly, as if it’s _our_ fault. But,” he sighed. “Can’t be helped.”

Hermione chewed on her nails. 

“Hey, did I show you the new hex we came up with during the summer?” Fred asked her, pulling out his wand. 

“Fred, you aren’t supposed to—”

“Hush, woman, you sound like our mother. We can do whatever we like on the train. They can’t monitor us here.”

Hermione clamped her mouth shut.

“We just need someone to try it out on,” said George thoughtfully, peering into the corridor. 

“Just wait for a slimy git to come by,” Lee suggested, sitting pensively back against his seat. “I’m definitely not volunteering.”

“Yeah, let’s wait for Malfoy to come by. He’ll be down any minute, looking for Harry.”

Fred snorted. “Yeah, let’s get that right pair of bollocks that hulks alongside him, too. Always a good day to administer some well-deserved hexes.” He winked at Hermione.

She was torn between eager anticipation and disapproval, but even she had to admit that hexing Malfoy would be a marvelous way to start her 2nd year. 

“Here he comes,” muttered Lee, tightening his grip on his wand. “Smarmy bastard…”

“He’s trying to find Harry,” George said gleefully. “Look at his face!” 

And indeed, Malfoy’s face became darker and darker as he realized that Harry Potter was nowhere to be found. 

Hermione pressed her ear to the door.

“He’s not here,” Malfoy said, almost disappointed. “Potty’s probably quit, or someone’s finally done him in, along with his blood traitor friends and the Mudblood. Better for us, I say. Come on, Crabbe. You too, Goyle. I want some Chocolate Frogs.”

Fred lunged out of the compartment, tearing his way out of Hermione’s grasp.

“Don’t you dare say that word again, you pitiful scum,” he seethed, pointing his wand at a cowering Malfoy. 

George and Lee flanked him, murderous looks on their faces, also pointing their wands at the trio.

“What did he say?” asked Hermione, half-curious and half-terrified. She hung back, hand on her wand, just in case.

“Granger, don’t tell me you don’t know what a Mudblood is!” laughed Malfoy, still hiding behind the hulking might of his friends. 

The twins exchanged a look, something secret and almost vicious passing between them.

“Georgie,” said Fred mildly, “Did you recall me telling this Slytherin wanker specifically _not_ to say a certain slur that carries negative connotations and years of systemic oppression?”

“I do recall something of that nature, my dear Fred. In fact, I seem to remember you _clearly stating_ your desire for that word to never pass his slimy lips again.”

Lee broke in. “So, what do you think we should do to, ah, express our displeasure at this heinous act?”

A slow grin spread across Fred’s face. “Hermione, will you do the honors?”

She pulled out her wand, pointing it at the three boys in front of her. 

Malfoy laughed. “What’s this little Mudblood going to do?” he jeered. “Come on, Granger, show me what you’ve—”

“ _Anserrus_!” 

Malfoy stopped. His throat bobbed. His mouth opened.

“ _Honk_!”

Hermione, Lee, and the twins all burst into laughter.

“ _Honk_!” Malfoy’s eyes comically widened in alarm, looking around desperately as if searching for Severus Snape to get him out of this mess.

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other anxiously, shooting a wary glance at Hermione. The disgraced Malfoy picked himself up, dusted himself off, and walked away with pointed nose in the air. He sent a deathly glare back over his shoulder, turned the corner, and disappeared. Hermione hoped he’d be stuck with a goose’s honk instead of a voice until he arrived at the school and enlisted Madam Pomfrey. 

“What did you _do_?” gasped George, literally rolling on the ground. 

“I was bored over the summer and read up on jinxes,” Hermione said in between giggles, “And I thought that one would work particularly well on Malfoy.”

“The—the look on his face,” choked Lee, and they howled, clutching their stomachs and wiping tears from their eyes.

Fred said nothing, but Hermione saw the fierce light of pride in his eyes as he beamed at her, looking like his face would split open from the widest grin he had to offer.

The foursome’s laughter eventually died down, the occasional chuckle breaking through. The train was close to Hogwarts, and the announcement came to don robes and begin to prepare for departure.

"Fred," Hermione began, not wanting to ask but needing to know, "What's a--a Mudblood?"

Fred sighed, face losing its buoyant animation of earlier. "It's a really, really offensive slur used to demean Muggleborns. It's not that common anymore. Pretty much only horrible, elitist blood-purists use it, which explains Malfoy. Don't worry about it. He knows not to bother you again, not with the memory of that truly excellent jinx ingrained in his mind."

With that, Fred grinned and pulled his robes over his Muggle clothes.

 _I never thought that being a Muggleborn would be easy,_ Hermione thought, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, _I just didn't expect... this._

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat, taking deep breaths and trying to forget the disgusted twist of Malfoy's smug mouth as he called her a Mudblood.

 

…

 

Hermione jiggled her foot impatiently throughout the Sorting, hungry and anxious. Harry and Ron were nowhere to be found, and even the twins started to become somewhat worried. The only thing she remembered was the cheers when Ginny Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor. 

The small, pale girl slid next to her, quaking with relief and leftover fear.

“Hello,” Hermione said, sticking out her hand and offering to the redhead. “I’m Hermione Granger. You must be Ginny. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m so glad you’re in Gryffindor with me, since I’ve been wanting a mate who’s _not_ a boy.” 

She said the last few words with a wry twist to her mouth, hoping to ease Ginny’s anxiety a bit. Hermione remembered exactly how terrible she felt her first few weeks of school, and resolved at that instant to look out for the younger girl.

Ginny nodded, skinny shoulders curving inwards and shooting a grateful look at Hermione.

“Gin!” yelled George. “It’s official—all Weasleys of this generation are henceforth Gryffindor Lions!” 

Next to him, Fred brandished a goblet in agreement, hitting poor Neville Longbottom in the head and spilling pumpkin juice onto the toad clutched tightly in his pudgy hand.

“Indeed—sorry, Neville—indeed! Celebrations are afoot, but not tonight. Not tonight. Classes start tomorrow, and we wouldn’t want everyone to fall asleep in old Snape’s dungeon, would we?”

Hermione read between the lines, as she so often had to do when talking to the twins, and made a mental note to wear her earmuffs to bed tonight and avoid the common room.

The feast concluded, and Hermione walked up to the dormitories with Ginny, confidently overwhelming the girl with information about classes and teachers and the various ins-and-outs of Hogwarts, when suddenly—

“Ginny!”

Ron and Harry pushed their way through the crowd, hair sticking up and robes mussed.

“Ron, I got into Gryffindor, I got in, I’m in Gryffindor!” Ginny jabbered delightedly, showing her brother her new red tie.

“That’s brilliant, Gin—”

“ _Where_ have you been?” Hermione demanded, hands on hips and eyes narrowed, shoving her way through the curious crowd surrounding the two boys.

Harry scratched the back of his neck, grinning shamefacedly at her. “We missed the train, so we took Ron’s dad’s flying car.”

“ _What_?”

But her cry was silenced by the cheer that arose from the surrounding students.

The twins clapped their younger brother on the back, proudly shouting, “That’s our brother! Ronald Bilius Weasley!”

Ron’s ears flushed bright red, but he looked pleased, albeit somewhat embarrassed. 

Hermione growled, rolling her eyes and stomping to her dormitory.

“Are you all right, Hermione?” a timid voice sounded from behind her.

Hermione turned, finding Ginny clutching on to her sleeve with huge, nervous eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s been a long day, and boys are stupid. Come on, I’ll show you to our dormitory.”

Ginny gave a shaky laugh, following her up the stairs.

“My brothers can be ridiculous,” the small girl offered. “But I’m rather glad I’m here with them.”

Hermione gave her a small smile. “So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been about two months, hasn't it? Super sorry for the delay. I'm definitely going to post more often, don't worry lol--xx shippingslut


	12. Listen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short update

Okay listen. I really do love writing this fic. and it'll still be here if you want to read it. and i'm not abandoning it by any means. but what i'm planning to do is revise what i've written so far, add more, and post it as an entirely new work when i have a more cohesive idea for where i want to go with this fic. if you have any questions, i'll be happy to answer them in the comments. and of course, you can always request fics at my writing tumblr, https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lost-andfound  
again, i'm sorry for my complete lack of continuity and planning, but i really feel like this is the best option for this fic :) thanks

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me in the comments how much you want, and I'll keep updating. Thanks for reading!--xx Shippingslut


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